Perhaps these days I'm writing a bit more for myself. And not for the thrill of it. As the days meld into on another, I tend to glamorize my experience. If someone were to ask me, "how have you been?", my inclination is to respond with "good" or some such phrasing, but looking back over the documentation of each day, each moment, I see that it is not so accurate to say I am "good." Certainly there are moments of goodness, for which I feel much gratitude, but to exclude the times that are less-than-good is to proclaim an inaccurate picture of my existence. My last entry read like this:
"Feel tired and nervous about the cramping in my legs. Throat hurts a bit. Intro to Social Work class has been mostly good. Thoughts of going off medication all together. Wish for more time, more energy. Glad tomorrow is payday. Wish I lived in a country with better social programs. Feeling guilty about not being involved with my Mom and her care. Wish I could feel more or something. Not sure where I am or what I feel. I think I'm tired more than anything. I guess this is life. Shower and bed."
I can find the goodness in most anything. I always try my best to see or create the silver lining, but still I can't help but feel the loss of the sunshine in my heart and hints of optimism that things will be better. Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe this is just how it is, an idea in which I find both comfort and terror. This is where I stand in this moment.
Peace to you. May your journey be only yours.
